“There’s been some question, Ms. Delgado, as to whether the women who live here are free to leave, if that is their wish. If you decided to leave, what would happen?”

Dolores glanced back at the church. Her spine subtly straightened. “It takes a while to accept the way of life here. There are requirements, things we need to learn. Once we do, everything gets easier.”

Edge caught her eye. “That sounds like something the reverend would say. What was going on in there, Dolores? I hear there are punishments if you break the rules. Were you being punished for something?”

Her face reddened. Her spine went even straighter. “I deserved it. I knew it was wrong. I shouldn’t have done it. I-I have to go.” Lifting her skirts, Dolores hurried away.

Edge turned to the sheriff. “Are you beginning to get the idea that something isn’t right out here?”

Akins shook his head. “Everyone has a right to live the way they choose. Unless you have proof these women are being mistreated, there’s nothing I can do.”

Edge glanced up to see Reverend Henson descending the wide front steps and walking toward them, his long white robes floating around him with every step. A gold cross on a chain around his neck flickered in the sunlight. With his sandy hair and perfectly symmetrical features, he had the subtle good looks that usually appealed to women.

“Sheriff Akins.” Henson smiled. “I heard you’d come to pay us a visit. And I see Mr. Logan is with you. I assume this pertains to our sister Callie.”

“Mr. Logan wanted to see for himself that the women living here are doing so of their own free will. We spoke to several. Hopefully his concerns have been laid to rest.”

The reverend fixed his gaze on Edge. His eyes were a warm golden brown, but a shard of anger burned in their depths. Edge wondered if the sheriff could see it.

“Are your concerns resolved, Mr. Logan?” the reverend asked. “Or do I need to bring half a dozen more women forward to convince you?”

More women who would say whatever Henson wanted them to. From what he’d heard from Dolores Delgado, the threat was understood. “I think I’ve seen enough.”

The sheriff spoke to Henson. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Reverend.”

Henson’s smile looked forced. “I’m sure you are. I’m sorry you felt you had to make the trip out here to see for yourself.”

There was a note of disapproval, perhaps even warning in the reverend’s words. Akins’s frown said he’d noticed.

Henson turned and walked back the way he had come, the sun gleaming on his thick, sandy hair as if the heavens themselves were bestowing their blessing.

Edge didn’t buy it for a moment.

Henson had almost reached the top step when he was approached by one of his men, big, broad-shouldered, in a red-check flannel shirt. They conversed for several seconds, and the man shook his head. One of Henson’s hands fisted. He said something and spun to continue up the steps.